May We Meet Again, Charlotte
by mockingbird616
Summary: What if the 100 still had communication with the Ark during the biological warfare? Bellamy and Clarke fight in front of the Ark and find comfort in each other. Set after 1x10. Pre-Bellarke.


**A/N: This is my first The 100 fanfiction. Please comment and tell me what you think! ; )**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything beside the plot line of this story. I am not responsible for anyone who thinks I own the 100.**

"I can assure you guys that we are all safe down here," Clarke announces to the Ark, thankful she doesn't have to wear that uncomfortable headset anymore, now that Raven modified the microphone and speakers.

"That's good to hear," Jaha says, speaking for all the citizens of the Ark standing behind him. "How many have died so far?"

"Fifteen. We lost Connors last night." Clarke looks down. "He—."

Clarke was cut off by Bellamy storming into the dropship.

"What are you—?" Clarke questions, a little frustrated by his abrupt arrival.

"Murphy needs to leave," Bellamy interrupts with a frown on his face.

"Bell," Clarke says soothingly, trying to calm him down.

"He is a murderer, a tyrant currently walking freely in our camp."

"He helped us take care of the sick during the hemorrhagic fever."

"That doesn't make up for all he has done!"

"You are right, it doesn't, but we need all the allies we can get, with the Grounders declaring war on us."

"Grounders?" Jaha questions, finally joining the conversation.

"Every person counts," Clarke continues, ignoring Jaha.

"He killed Charlotte!" Bellamy roars, reaching his breaking point.

Clarke steps back, startled by his outburst.

Bellamy turns around and punches the wall of the dropship. As he finishes, he leans his head against it, his arms holding him in place, facing away from Clarke.

Clarke's eyes soften. _So that's what this is about_ , she thought.

"We couldn't have known Charlotte would do that," Clarke comforts, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The people of the Ark stand there, confused. Though some have a look of pity in their eyes, including Abby.

"I think about her every day," Bellamy whimpers, so quiet that only Clarke hears him.

"Me too," Clarke replies, tears forming in her eyes. She rests her head in between his shoulder blades, her hand still on his shoulder.

"She was so young, only twelve years old." He bites back a sob threatening to erupt from his throat. As if sensing it, Clarke wraps her free arm around his waist.

Seeking more comfort, Bellamy turns around and wraps his arms around her body. As Clarke's head makes contact with his chest, she closes her eyes and finds comfort through the soft thumping of his heartbeat. She sighs in contentment. She lets the tears flow out of her eyes.

The people on the Ark stay silent, felling like they are intruding on the two co-leaders moment.

"I miss her," Clarke croaks, breaking the silence.

Bellamy doesn't say anything. He just pulls her closer so her head is tucked under his chin.

"If I had just kept my mouth shut, she would still be here," Clarke continues, her voice cracking, letting all the thoughts that have consumed her brain out.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault," Bellamy contradicts. "You couldn't have known that that would happen."

"Doesn't make it hurt any less." She tightly clenches her fists around the material of Bellamy's jacket.

They just stand there, holding each other tightly for a few moments, relishing in the comfort the other was giving them.

Remembering that they have an audience, Clarke reluctantly steps out of her confidante's warm embrace.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, Chancellor," Clarke apologizes as she turns to the monitor.

"It's okay," Jaha assures, understanding that both Clarke and Bellamy needed to let that out.

Clarke nods in thanks.

"I'm sorry for your loss, you two," Jaha says, finally acknowledging the man standing behind Clarke.

"Thank you, sir," Bellamy answers, softly.

"I am going to let you go," Jaha exclaims. "I will tell you when the first dropship is coming down in a few days."

"Okay, sir," Clarke replies.

The two coleaders see the Chancellor nod at them before the screen goes blank.

For a few minutes, they stand in silence, neither of them knowing what to say.

"Murphy can stay," Bellamy announces. "But he will be under constant surveillance."

Clarke nods.

"You're doing the right thing," Clarke comforts, knowing he needs the reassurance.

"I hope so," Bellamy responds, harshly, before storming out of the dropship.

A few hours later…

"Have you seen Bellamy?" Clarke asks, for what feels like the millionth time.

"Nope. Sorry," the teenager answers, before hastily walking towards the campfire to retrieve his rations.

 _Where the hell is he?_ She thinks. _It's almost dark._

As she finishes her thought, she sees Jasper walking towards his tent.

"Jasper!" Clarke yells as she runs towards him.

"Hey, Clarke. What's up?" Jasper slurs, tipsily, as Clarke stops in front of him.

"Do you know where Bellamy is?" Clarke questions, deciding to ignore the fact that he is obviously drunk. _Monty probably made a new batch of moonshine_ , she notes so can grab some to add to the medical supplies later.

"Oh, Bellamy. I saw him go towards the graveyard earlier," he answers, slightly off-balance due to the alcohol.

"Okay. Thanks," Clarke utters, quickly walking away.

 _I should have known_ , Clarke thinks before racing towards the graveyard.

As she arrives, she sees Bellamy kneeling in front of Charlotte's empty grave. His shoulders are slightly shaking, though it isn't because of the cold weather. Clarke can hear him talking quietly. That brings a wave of tears to her eyes. She starts to walk closer to him, reluctant to interrupt him.

"I should have known you were here. I've been looking for you for hours," Clarke comments, making her presence known.

"I just wanted to visit Charlotte," Bellamy exclaims, softly. "Since we couldn't find her body, this is the best I could do."

Clarke puts her hand on his shoulder in comfort. He accepts it and put his hand over hers.

"If only we had more time with her," Clarke sighs.

"If only," Bellamy repeats, two words he has heard is his head so many times. _If only Octavia wasn't found. If only Atom survived the acid fog. If only I didn't shoot the Chancellor…If only Charlotte was alive._

"Most nights, I have nightmares about the day she died," he confesses after a few moments of silence. "Sometimes it was Charlotte who jumped of the cliff. Sometimes it was Octavia. Sometimes it was…you."

Clarke's eyes quickly move to meet his as she hears his last words. There is no indication that he was lying on his face.

"No matter what, the nightmares won't stop," Bellamy continues. "I guess it just reminds me of the guilt that follows me like a shadow."

"Bell, it wasn't your fault, just like it wasn't mine. You can't save everyone."

"But I can try."

Clarke doesn't know what say after that. She just grips her hand tighter around his shoulder and sinks to the ground beside him.

"We can't let her death consume us. We have to move on from it," Clarke finally says as she stares at the little piece of wood with Charlotte's name carved on it.

"We can't just forget her," Bellamy protests, his voice heavily strained.

"I'm not saying we forget about her. I would never say that. We just have to remember that there was nothing we could do and she's in a better place now. She will always be in our hearts."

Bellamy silently nods.

Both of them just sit there basking in the memories of the young girl who was like a daughter to them. During that time, Clarke subconsciously rests her head on Bellamy's replacing her hand which she had removed to wipe the few tears that joined the dirt and abrasions covering her face.

Long after the stars began filling the sky, Clarke lets out a tiny yawn escape her lips. Bellamy is quick to notice.

"I think it's time to get back to camp," Bellamy announces.

Clarke sniffles and mumbles a quick, "Yeah," in agreement.

"Can we come and visit Charlotte again soon?" Clarke asks, liking the feeling of Charlotte's presence surrounding her as she sits in front of the empty resting place.

"Of course, Princess," Bellamy answers, as he slowly gets up from the ground.

Before she stands up, Clarke rests her hand on top of the grave and whispers, "May we meet again, Charlotte."

Bellamy smiles as he hears the words that are often spoken at people's deathbeds on the Ark.

Clarke takes her time standing up, reluctant to leave the place she now thinks if as a sanctuary.

Both of them turn to walk back to camp. Neither of them say anything, both enjoying the comfortable silence.

About halfway to the wall, Clarke slips her hand into Bellamy's, her fingers curl around his. To say Bellamy is surprised is an understatement. His body tenses up from the touch. Feeling it, Clarke regrets making the move and attempts to pull her hand away, but stops as Bellamy's hand squeezes hers. She looks up at him in shock and is met with a warm smile. His smile is so bright that she can't help but smile back.

The smiles never leave either of their faces the whole way back.

When they arrive in the camp, everyone appears to be in their tents. Though there are a few who were passed out in front of the fire.

As they see them, both turn towards each other and, in unison, say, "Monty's moonshine."

They both laugh softly, remembering how strong the alcohol really is.

"Thanks for tonight," Clarke exclaims, after their laughing subsides.

"No problem," Bellamy replies, softly. "I think it was something we both needed."

"It defi—." She cuts herself off with a big yawn.

Bellamy chuckles.

"I believe it's time for us to go and get some sleep, Princess."

"Yeah."

"Goodnight, princess."

"Goodnight, Bell."

Clarke turns away to walk towards the dropship.

 _She's staying in the dropship,_ he thinks, as he sees her walk towards the metal shelter. Hastily, he runs towards her, grabbing her wrist and lightly tugging on it.

"You're staying in the dropship?" he asks, appalled at the idea of her staying in the place where there was recently a crowd of sick teenagers, coughing up blood and moaning in agony.

"I'm fine there, Bellamy," she states, knowing exactly what he's thinking.

"No, you aren't. It'll be cold and uncomfortable there. You won't get any sleep."

"It's not like I get much sleep, with the nightmares and all."

Bellamy smiles at her, sympathetically.

"Why don't you stay with me in my tent," Bellamy suggests.

"I don't know. I don't want to intrude on your personal space or something," Clarke protest, her cheeks reddening at the thought of it.

"I don't mind. Plus, it may help keep our nightmares at bay."

Clarke thinks about it for a couple moments.

"Okay," she decides.

Bellamy smiles at her reassuringly.

He puts his hand on the small of her back and guides her to his tent. Clarke blushes from the contact.

His tent is bigger than the rest of all the other tents, whether it was because he is "leader" or not, Clarke's not sure. When they enter she sees many animal furs lying across the floor, though there are some on the wall for insulation. She recognizes one of the black furs as the panther that almost killed them when they saved Jasper. On the side of the tent, there was a make-shift bed made of furs and blankets from the bunker they found.

They both stop as they reach the edge of the bed. Bellamy's hand leaves Clarke's back and she immediately misses the warmth that his emits.

He shrugs off his jacket before sliding under a couple layers of blankets and moving to the side of the bed closest to the wall. He pats the empty side of the bed, urging her to lay down.

Clarke hesitates before taking off her jacket and lying beside him.

As she stares up at the ceiling, she feels a hand grab and squeeze her hand in comfort. She move her gaze to Bellamy who smiles at her before closing his eyes and succumbing to sleep.

Feeling the hand grasping hers, Clarke knows that nothing can harm her and quickly closes her eyes and falls asleep.

A few hours later…

Bellamy slowly wakes up after feeling a weight on his chest. As his eyes fully adjust to being open, he looks down to see a blonde head of hair laying on his left shoulder and a fist clutching a piece of his shirt.

He smiles.

Wrapping his arms around her, he turns his head and gives her a kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, Clarke," he whispers before closing his eyes and falling into a nightmare-free sleep.


End file.
